


My Heart Would Benefit From a Little Tenderness From Time to Time

by SuperstringSymphony



Series: Hurry Now the Moment's Fleeting [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of bottom Steve, Secret Relationship, Slow Dancing, Steve and His Intimacy Issues, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but only sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperstringSymphony/pseuds/SuperstringSymphony
Summary: “Come with me.” Tony licks his lips, blue eyes lifting to meet Steve's. “We've both had a long week, I thought you might like to relax.” Tony's gaze darts from side to side.  Steve has noticed since they started this that Tony only ever truly looks nervous when he's talking to him. “The car is around the front, what do you say, weekend getaway?” Tony smiles, stroking a hand down his back with a featherlight touch. Steve just barely represses a shiver, eyeing Tony for a moment. With other people he's always a little shuttered. Here though, with Steve, his expression is unguarded, eyes bright with hope. He looks a little strained though, as if the week has taken its toll on him as well.





	My Heart Would Benefit From a Little Tenderness From Time to Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlossomsintheMist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/gifts).



> This fic spawned from various conversations with (and is for) Blossomsinthemist.  
> This fic is pure unadulterated fluff set in the Ults verse, taking place in a sort of nebulous time-frame. Also many thanks to Aeniala for the shepherd's pie recipe, it's amazing!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and highly motivating!
> 
> I occasionally post things that don't end up on A03 on my [tumblr](https://ilunabarrean.tumblr.com).

* * *

 

It's been sleeting all week, that kind of damp cold that sneaks beneath layers of clothing and steals the breath away. Steve has incredibly high tolerances for temperatures both high and low, but that doesn't change the fact that he hates the cold most of all. It doesn't help that their last few fights have taken place outside with the cold icy slush pounding down. It makes him shorter with replies, and gruffer if that's possible. He can see people skitter away as he walks down hallways later after the debrief. Beneath his gloves his knuckles are smarting; in a few hours they'll be completely fine, but it's just one more aggravation on his miles long list.

“Looking awfully grumpy there, handsome.” Tony's warm tones draw him up short. He's leaning in a doorway, all insouciant grace and languid poise. Steve feels the tips of his ears go hot when Tony meanders closer and drapes an arm over his shoulder. Steve doesn't shrug it off the way he might have once. Not now, not when there's this _thing_ between them. Besides, he _likes_ it. Likes having Tony close, the easy warmth of him there, his quick, clever fingers, and warm affectionate words.

“Stark. Thought you'd be long gone by now.” Despite his best efforts, he still sounds a little hopeful. Sure enough Tony catches it, lips turning upward as he moves his arm from around his shoulder to give his waist a quick squeeze, before letting it drop away so they can walk down the hallway side by side.

“Come with me.” Tony licks his lips, blue eyes lifting to meet Steve's. “We've both had a long week, I thought you might like to relax.” Tony's gaze darts from side to side.  Steve has noticed since they started this that Tony only ever truly looks nervous when he's talking to him. “The car is around the front, what do you say, weekend getaway?” Tony smiles, stroking a hand down his back with a featherlight touch. Steve just barely represses a shiver, eyeing Tony for a moment. With other people he's always a little shuttered. Here though, with Steve, his expression is unguarded, eyes bright with hope. He looks a little strained though, as if the week has taken its toll on him as well.

“Okay. Yeah, I don't want any parties though, you got that?” He grumbles, raking a hand over his face as Tony leads him out to a waiting town car.

“Crystal clear, darling, don't worry; that wasn't what I had in mind as it was.” Tony says almost softly, climbing into the backseat beside Steve. The ride doesn't take very long, but Tony wastes no time getting right up in his space, laying his head on his shoulder and stroking over Steve's arm and side. It makes something knot up in Steve's stomach, a lump in his throat when Tony leaves a gentle kiss against the clenched hinge of his jaw.

“Stark-Tony.” He croaks out, uncertain with what to do with all this affection, as he always is.

“The windows are tinted too dark for anyone to see in, Steve, gorgeous, it's okay. Unless you want me to stop,” Tony says, right up against his ear, breath fanning there and making Steve shiver.

“No it's.” Steve grunts, turning to face Tony. “I like it. When you touch me,” He says, and Tony smiles, wide and sweet, and leans in to kiss him, warm and easy as anything.

“I know that must have been difficult for you to admit, thank you; I like touching you too honey.” Tony murmurs against Steve's lips, mouth opening against his when Steve pulls him closer to deepen the kiss. Tony really is a fantastic kisser. A fantastic lover. He asks for so little. The first time they slept together Steve wasn't sure what to expect, but Tony is so good. So kind, and sweet, and patient. Nothing like the tabloids paint him out to be. He treated Steve's inexperience as nothing important, never made him feel embarrassed for not knowing things, and god, the things he could do with his _mouth._ Steve doesn't think he'll ever be the same, and he wouldn't take it back for anything.

“You calling me difficult?” Steve asks lowly, drawing back just to watch Tony chase the kiss.

“Worth the work, always worth the work.” Tony says, leaning in to cup his cheek and pressing another kiss to Steve's lips. “Call me a workaholic even, married to my wor-” Tony says between kisses, laughing when Steve grumbles at him but still going back for more. Married though. The word lingers in his awareness. It seems like lifetimes ago that he thought about getting married, having someone to come home to, someone who loved him and who he loved more than anyone or anything else. He wonders if Tony would ever want to be married again after what happened with _her_. But no. He's not going to think about that right now. What he has with Tony is good, great, better than anything he really thought to hope for, especially after everything.

Tony seems to sense his thoughtful mood, twining their hands together and keeping a comfortable silence between them until they reach their destination; a tall building Steve has never been to before. Tony hops out of the car, dragging him through a back entrance and into what looks like a cargo elevator. He taps a code in on the keypad, and the elevator dings twice before rising smoothly upwards.

“I don't recognize this place.”

“Oh, well. This is where I go when I don't want anyone to know I'm in town. When I'm not feeling up to dealing with everyone.” _When I'm feeling sick._ That goes unspoken, but Steve can hear it in the air between them, see it in the tension around Tony's shoulders.

“But you're showing it to me?” Steve says, softer than he usually manages to be.

“Yes.” Tony murmurs. “I'm showing it to you. I thought we might take some time away from it all. I think we could both use it. There's already story circulating that I've flown off to Fiji.” Tony keeps talking as the elevator doors open, and he keys in a code to let them into a spacious penthouse. It's smaller than some of the other places Tony has brought him to. Floor to ceiling windows dominate a sunken sitting room, and a gleaming chef's kitchen takes up the rest of what his eyes can see. There's a staircase winding up just along the far wall, with a pillow filled king size bed all done up in scarlet just visible over glassed in loft railing.

“Nice place, cozy.” Steve remarks, stopping to take off his boots in the entryway. The floors look sleek and easy to clean, but that doesn't mean he wants to track in the dirt and dust of the day. “So what was the plan?” He asks, not sure what to do with himself now, not sure what Tony wants, just knowing he'll do it. Before the thought would have made him uncomfortable, but being with Tony is good, it's centering, peaceful.

“I thought we could stay here, make dinner together, catch a few movies, just relax.” Tony turns toward him, glance uncertain as he too slips his shoes off. “Does that sound like something you would enjoy?” Tony steps a little closer, lashes dipping as he looks up at Steve.

“Just. Just be-” It seems too much to hope for. Like something he could never ask for, something he wants more than anything.

“Here, together,” Tony finishes for him. “Is that good for you, sugar?”

“Sugar,” Steve deadpans, caught off guard. Tony smiles wide, blue eyes twinkling with affection and mirth. Steve sucks in a deep breath. Tony has brought him here, to this place he doesn't share with anyone. It's an intimate gesture, sharing this, wanting Steve in such a private space. Steve feels tension unknot between his shoulder blades with his answer. “Yeah. It's good for me. I'd like that.”

Tony's answering smile is blinding. “Good, go take a shower while I get things set up. Your pajamas will be hanging on the door. We'll cook dinner together after you finish up, darling.”

“Not gonna order out?” Steve says, somewhat skeptical of his own abilities to put something together that Tony will like. He hopes Tony has potatoes.

“No, ordering out would mess up my whole Tony Stark is in Fiji rumor. Besides, I like cooking.” Well, that's something Steve didn't know. The other times they have spent together Tony has ordered food for them, or already had entire four course meals in his refrigerator.

“Oh. Should I _wash up_ in the shower then?” He can't say what he really means yet, it seems vulgar to talk about that kind of thing with Tony even now, with Tony having seen what seems like every inch of him.

“No darling, I have other plans for tonight.” Tony's smile is warm and encouraging, as is the kiss he presses to Steve's lips. He lets that buoy him up to the bathroom where countless massaging jets of water do their best to work the week's tension from his body. He's had a few things to say about the way Tony lives his life, the decadence, but he can't deny how great this shower feels on his clammy skin.

He stays in there for an inordinate amount of time, but it feels so good to just relax.  When he finally gets out of the shower there's a fluffy blue robe hanging on the hook directly outside the area with the glassed in shower, and a pair of warm flannel pajamas in a style he's worn before.  These are new, the tags still on them but the prices removed.

Steve stares at them for long moments, wondering at the thoughtfulness of the gesture.  He wonders how many other things Tony has bought with bringing him here in mind. The sweetness of that, the thoughtfulness of it, makes him flush, a dopey sort of smile pulling across his face that he quickly schools away when he catches sight of himself in the mirror.  A pair of toothbrushes sit innocuously on the vanity as well as a few jars of Steve's favorite hair pomade. Steve swallows thickly, overcome suddenly with everything Tony is doing for him. These little things that really prove what they have is real.

The pajamas are just as soft and warm as his other pair when he slips them on.  He remembers the last time he wore another pair of these. Tony's quick, agile fingers doing up the buttons, the pleased curve of his smile, the comforting press of his lithe body against his in the bed as he told him how good he looked in blue.  It makes him feel a little hot under the collar to think of what they had been doing prior to the pajamas coming into play, but lately just thinking about Tony in general makes him feel overheated and red in the face. Well, maybe Tony has always made him feel that way, if he's being completely honest with himself.  Accepting that, and seeking it out had taken more time though. Time and Tony Stark's immeasurable bravery in asking Steve for a date when he expected a punch instead. He can't really put into words now how grateful he is that Tony had that bravery, because now they have this, and it's really the best thing that's ever happened to him.

Steve pauses for a moment to take Tony in when he finally makes his way back down to the kitchen  His shirt is unbuttoned nearly down to the navel, the deep red of it framing warm golden skin, forearms bare where the long sleeves have been rolled up.  His dark slacks are still buttoned, the shirt half tucked in at the waistband. Deep burgundy slippers cover his feet, and his black hair is in an attractive state of dishevelment.  Steve never wants him to look any different; it's just, it's a really good look on him.  
  
“Do you ever wonder-”  Tony says when he notes Steve's arrival “what it's like for other couples, couples who aren't as well known as we are?”  
  
“Yeah.  Don't suppose we'll ever get that though.”  There's a part of him that wants to be public with this, wants to shout it from the rooftops, as terrifying and unthinkable as that is.  Their world is an unforgiving one though, and he doesn't doubt that making their relationship public would paint an even larger target on both of their backs.  Still it's nice to think about sometimes.  
  
“We could.   Here, now. We could pretend that we're a normal couple.”  Tony is standing by one of the huge windows framing the kitchen, his shoulder leaning against it.  Bright lights splash colors across his face and chest, the neon of the city making his outline against the sleet speckled glass seem to glow.  “Spend the whole weekend with me. We'll make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, watch terrible daytime television and stay in bed until the afternoon.  I’ll call you darling and-” Tony’s eyes raise to his, dark and unreadable and yearning all at once. “-beloved, and you’ll call me sweetheart while we dance in the living room.”  He finishes with a smile that quivers at the corners.

The endearments make him flush all down his chest the way they always do, but there's something in them today that Tony hides most nights. Steve steps closer, reaching out to wrap a hand around the narrow span of Tony's wrist. “Sounds good to me, but you're going to have to teach me how to work with your fancy ingredients if we're doing something other than boiled potatoes.”

“Steve, I will absolutely teach you how to make something other than boiled potatoes, my god, what have you been eating?” Tony sounds more than a little scandalized, but he doesn't resist when Steve winds him in to steal a kiss.  His mouth tastes like red wine and dark berries, warm and sweet and hot, Tony's tongue curling around his when the kiss deepens. His skin is warm, so warm when Steve slips his hands beneath the opening in his shirt that Steve feels he’ll never be cold again. The smell of him, hot metal, cinnamon and expensive cologne, wraps around his senses, and he chases that scent with his lips, mouthing along Tony's jaw until he can rub his nose just behind one ear where he helped Tony dab cologne the last time they were together. Tony sighs, leaning into his touch for a few moments before the growling of Steve's stomach interrupts their moment with a loud complaint.

“Sorry,” Steve says, glum and contrite all at once.  Tony just laughs, stepping back and swatting him on the rear playfully, directing him towards a colander full of imposingly green leafy things, and a few halved pears.

“I want you to chop those.”  He says, placing a slim knife in Steve’s hand that feels more like a scalpel for how small it feels clutched in his grip.  “Here.” Tony says, pressing against his back, framing steve’s arms with his own, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder as he runs Steve through a quick series of slices to sliver the pear into thin pieces.  His grip is sure, the fingers strong, and despite the way the breadth of his body in no way dwarfs his own, Steve still feels covered, guided. He shivers a little, smiling when Tony brushes a gentle kiss over his jaw and wraps his free hand around a waist much broader than his own.  

“How’s that?”  He asks, sighing when Tony’s hand slips beneath his flannel pajama shirt to rub over his stomach.

“Mmm, that’s absolutely lovely darling, perfect and precise, just like my man.”  The smile is evident in his voice, and Steve can’t help but redden a little bit to hear the praise Tony always lavishes him with.  When they first got together he used to think the praise, the pet names, were all a put on; but Tony really means it all, the sweet names and the glowing regard.  No one has ever treated him this way. Like he’s something good, like he’s something _perfect._ “Good.”  Tony says softly, when he’s finished with the pears, and Steve turns his head to steal a chaste kiss.  “Better.” Tony says,turning his face to smile into his neck when they part.

“What now?  That wasn’t too bad.”  Steve says, eager now to see what they can make.  A little bit because he has someone to walk him through it, and a lot because maybe Tony will stay close, let him steal a few more kisses.

“One and a half cups of pecans, we’re making a triple serving for the benefit of your incredible metabolism.”  Tony saunters off to grab a large bag of pecans from the counter nearby, leaning against it, blue eyes soft and affectionate as Steve measures the nuts out onto the cutting board.

“You should eat double too.”  Steve grumbles under his breath.

“Oh, are you asking me to put on happy relationship pounds, hot stuff?”  Tony sounds delighted, reprising his spot behind Steve to show him how to go about chopping the pecans.  It feels strange to be the one being shielded, being wrapped up in strong secure arms. Tony’s not quite big enough to manage it fully, but he loves it just the same.

“Just think you ought to eat more.  If my ma’ saw you she’d bust my chops for not feeding you up right.  Maybe some potato stew, a nice thick steak.” Potato stew sounds great with how cold it is outside.  It reminds him of home, of his mom standing waving a spoon at him and teaching him Gaelic swear words on a Saturday morning.

“Oh darling, I don’t think I have any complaints in so far as thick slabs of meat.”  Tony’s tone drips with innuendo. Steve grunts, snapping his knife down more quickly to cut the pecans up into small pieces.  

“Don’t you start with my meat again, Stark.”  Steve says, laughing despite himself, pulled from his melancholy instantly.  Tony shakes with laughter against his back, pressing apologetic kisses against his neck, which is lovely, and more than a little distracting.  Still, he finishes his assigned task in what he estimates to be a decent window of time.

“Fine, fine, I will desist, but you will get your potatoes, I wouldn’t deprive you.  Our second course is shepherd’s pie. Opinions, thoughts, offers of fellatio?” Tony’s eyes sparkle when Steve turns to throw a pecan at him.  “Violence, I’m hurt, Steve.”

“Shaddup, you know I love shepherd’s pie.” Steve sets the nuts aside, wiping his hands against a towel folded up next to the cutting board.   

Tony’s gaze dips a little, lashes casting shadows over the faint pink dusting over the high points of his face.  “I do. I had hoped that you would like it, like making it together. I want you to like this meal, I want it to be good, Steve, honey.”

“Oh.”  Steve feels unaccountably off balance to hear the bare honesty in those words.  In that admission of how much thought Tony has put into their weekend. “Yeah, that was a good idea; thank you, Tony.”

The salad comes together without much fanfare, or at least Tony makes it look easy.  He flits about, rubbing the greens with some concoction while he cooks the pears and pecans with sugar.  When it’s all mixed together in a huge serving bowl Steve can’t help but go over and taste it surreptitiously, while Tony is chopping an onion and sniffling near the sink.  It tastes incredible. Steve has never really been a salad kind of guy, but this is sweet and savory, and perfect.

“I hear you crunching back there, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” Tony says, wiping his eyes and shooting him an amused glance.  Steve stills with a fork halfway to his mouth. Caught red handed.

“You gonna rap my knuckles with a ruler?”  Steve eats his forkful, crunching on it maybe more loudly than strictly necessary.  

“No-but I might just be tempted to spank you.  But that’s hardly a new temptation, truth be told.”  Tony answers, raising one eyebrow in challenge, head tipped to the side consideringly.  Steve goes hot all down his chest, unsure if he wants to say ‘yes please’ or hide under the table.  He settles on stubbornness instead.

“Don’t think you’re big enough to bend me over your knee.  Might throw your back out. You might have to use a winch to lift me.”  

“Darling-”  Tony bursts out laughing, the sound as pleasant and spine tingling as it always is.  “I have the armor; if you really want me to channel my inner ugg the caveman then rest assured, where there’s a will there’s a way.”  The thought of that, of Tony in the armor, picking him up and tossing him on the bed, makes his mouth go dry. Steve swallows a few times, then very deliberately pilfers another bite of their salad.  “Terrible.” Tony laughs. “Can’t take you anywhere; what a menace. Come over here and chop some potatoes before you eat all of our starter.”

Steve goes without comment, letting Tony walk him through the familiar process of dicing and boiling potatoes to make a mash.  They both busy themselves with their tasks; Tony with mixing garlic and fragrant spices in a pan with heavy cream. After that is heated he sets that aside and moves on to making the stew, and the room soon fills with the scent of browning meat and simmering vegetables.

“Do you like peas?” Tony says suddenly, head snapping up where he's standing next to Steve by the stove.

“Love peas, one of my favorite vegetables.” Steve answers, peering into Tony's pot and noting the diced carrots and peas already in the mix.

“Right,” Tony shoves away from the counter, grabbing a bag of freshly shelled peas from within his refrigerator.  “I'll just add some more then, just for you, one stew coming up, extra peas.” He peers into the bag, seemingly eyeballing the measurement, before wandering back over.

Steve watches him and realizes that for the first time in a week he feels well and truly relaxed. The ever present tension that makes his body thrum with barely contained agitation is gone, and it's gone because of Tony. Tony with his sweet words and his endless desire to please, and his shocking thoughtfulness. Tony who has halted in his progress towards the Stove because Steve has been staring at him, utterly gobsmacked and silent for the last few moments. He doesn't look like a billionaire right now. He looks soft, attractively rumpled, and at home in his warm slippers and half open shirt. _Oh. Oh, I love him._ He thinks, realization racing through him so suddenly that it takes his breath away.

“Steve,” He says quietly “are you alright there darling?”

“I, Tony-” He's standing in front of Tony before he can catch up to his own intention to move. It has been three months since they started this; Steve has faced down countless enemies, but somehow laying himself bare is so much more frightening. “Tony, oh _sweetheart._ ” He whispers the last of it, reverent as a prayer as he takes Tony's face between his hands. Steve knows it must all be there, love written across his face like a great big glowing neon sign. He's always been shit at hiding things from Tony even before they got together. Tony doesn't say anything though, he seems to almost be holding his breath, eyes wide and shocked; that tension releases with a soft sigh when Steve slips one arm down to wrap around his waist. “My sweetheart.” He murmurs, drawing Tony close and dropping a gentle kiss over his jaw, then his lips.

“Steve, I'm- yes, yours, all yours big guy.” Tony chokes out about as smoothly as a gravel road. Steve feels affection twist in his chest, warm and rising like a tide, and just as inescapable. He leans in, releasing Tony's face to thread his fingers through Tony's hair. He just rests his hand there for a moment, petting the soft strands, before curving his hand around the back of Tony's neck to sweep him into a kiss. It's soft at first, careful, but grows deeper as one kiss melds into another, and another more. Tony gasps, trembling against him and throwing an arm around his shoulders. The bag of peas thumps onto the ground, but neither of them cares; too caught up in each other to care about anything but the press of their mouths together. He slips his hand beneath the untucked tail of Tony's shirt, rubbing over the warm smooth skin of his lower back. Tony melts against him, fisting a hand in Steve's pajamas as if to try and bring him closer.

“Never thought I could have this, have you.” Steve speaks against Tony's lips like a secret. Tony shivers, pressing closer, pulling him into more kisses. He's so eager, so warm and genuine, and Steve is gone on the moment, lost in everything he never thought he could have. He's so awed, so grateful, he wishes he was as good with words as Tony is, so he could tell him exactly how much this means to him; how much _Tony_ means to him.

“Of course you can have me, you always have. Just had to ask, just had to say so beloved.” Tony breathes into the air between them when they part for a moment to catch their breath.  Tony says it so easily, and it’s true he told Steve he would call him beloved, but hearing him say it is something else. He says it so warmly, affectionately, sweet, like a mouthful of cotton candy.  There’s a look in his blue, blue eyes too, something Steve has seen for awhile now but didn’t have a name for. It hits him like a gut punch that Tony loves him in return.

“Oh,”  He whispers for what feels like the hundredth time tonight “really, I didn't think, I never thought, even before, when you were with-” He lets the sentence trail off, he doesn't want to think of Tony with other people now. People who hurt him, people who _betrayed_ him and would have been all too happy to destroy one of the best men Steve has ever met.

“I always have been rather fond of you darling, I thought it was all terribly transparent, but I guess not.” Tony says, a little ruefully, a little breathlessly. Steve kisses him again.

It's not until the scent of aromatic spices and vegetables grows impossible to ignore, and Tony’s little robot vacuum cleaner reaches the peas near their feet, that they finally separate. Tony pulls away regretfully, sprinting over to the pan to remove it from the heat. The stew is perfectly salvageable, and so are Steve's potatoes, so all is well.  Together they finish the mash, Tony stirring in his mixture of cream and spices after Steve has thoroughly mashed them apart. It smells so incredible by the time they put it in a large baking dish and put it in the oven that Steve ends up pilfering a yogurt from the icebox before he gives up and eats all their salad in one go. Tony stands near the oven, staring into it intently as if he’s watching the breadcrumbs get crispy.  Steve wants him closer already.

“I’m getting kinda cold.”  Steve mumbles, setting down his yogurt cup, leaning back against the counter.  Tony’s gaze snaps away from the oven, and he strides over without hesitation to wrap his arms around Steve.

“Mmm, can’t neglect you, now can I darling.  What sort of terrible host would I be if I let my beloved shiver?”  Tony tucks himself close, sighing when Steve’s arms go around him to pull him in tight.  He presses tiny distracting kisses all along the collar of Steve’s shirt until the timer for the oven goes off.  When Tony pulls the steaming dish out, Steve’s stomach gives such a loud rumble that Tony laughs and ushers them into the dining area, promising he won’t be long.  Steve takes the salad bowl with him, unwilling to let Tony do all the work.

The table is set formally, with fine plates his ma’ probably would have shrieked in terror about if Steve had so much as looked at them.  Two wine glasses and an open bottle of cabernet sauvignon are placed around a small flower arrangement. The lights are dimmed to a candlelight glow, clearly set up to leave just their two chairs in a pool of light.  Steve feels emotion clogging up his throat. Tony did all this for him, for _them._ He went shopping for this meal and had to have come here to set this table up beforehand; all of that without knowing if Steve would even say yes.  Steve swallows thickly, setting down their salad, and sitting down heavily in one of the chairs.

Tony joins him moments later, carrying their entree with oven-mitted hands.  He smiles brightly at Steve, setting it down on a charger. Thankfully he’s gotten his face under control by the time Tony takes the seat at his side and begins doling out the salad and pouring wine.  Everything is delicious, from the salad, to the wine, to their joint effort shepherd's pie. Conversation is warm and easy, Steve tells a few stories about his childhood, and Tony regales him with some of the ridiculous things he’s done in the past.  They don’t talk about work, or the Ultimates, or anything that would suggest they weren’t just two lovers having a weekend away. Steve loves what he does, it’s his calling, his purpose, but they both needed this; and it’s nice to have something that isn’t tied to fighting or a mission in some way.  

“So Tony, what about dessert?”  He says when his plate is thoroughly scraped clean, their wine bottle empty.  Beneath the table their ankles brush, and Steve grabs Tony’s wrist on impulse to press a kiss over the back of his hand.

“What about dessert he says.”  Tony smiles, blue eyes twinkling with amusement.  “Alright, but you have to let my hand go first, gorgeous.”  That seems terribly unfair, although it is sound logic. Steve sighs in a mock put upon fashion, but relinquishes his hold.  He whistles as Tony walks off, and Steve smiles to hear him laughing all the way to the kitchen. There’s a few noises, plates being moved around and something pouring.  Tony is back soon after; two large bowls held in his arms.

“I thought we might have something nice and simple for dessert, something you mentioned wanting to do with-”  Tony clears his throat “your sweetheart someday.”

“Well, you _are_ my sweetheart now so, whatever it is I trust your judgement.”  He says, peering over at the bowls curiously. That seems to give Tony pause.  Two bright spots of color splash across his cheeks, his hands tremble slightly, and he closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling a deep breath before blowing it out.

“I’ve made a vanilla and grand marnier whipped cream and there are strawberries to dip them in.  It’s not very complicated but I do remember you saying you liked the idea of it.” Tony sounds as if he might start rambling.  It’s so far from his usual smooth delivery, as if he’s expecting Steve to shoot him down, as if that were even possible now.

“I also said I wanted to feed the strawberries to my steady, we gonna get to do that?”  Steve asks. Tony’s eyes darken slightly, he comes closer, setting the bowls down on the table and then insinuating himself into Steve’s lap.  

“I had my plans darling, thought I’d sit on the best seat in the house and we could share.”  Tony leans in for a brief kiss, which Steve melts into happily. Tony’s hands are cool on his face from holding the chilled bowls, but his mouth is scorching hot, perfect in every way.  He pulls away all to soon, and Steve grunts in dissatisfaction. “Darling I can’t feed you dessert if we’re kissing.” Tony says, affection coloring the words as he reaches into one bowl, pulling a ripe red strawberry from within, before dipping it in the other bowl.  He brings it to Steve’s lips after that, gaze hooding when Steve licks the cream from his fingertips before eating the proffered fruit.

“Wow, that’s, that’s so good.”  Steve says, once his mouth is no longer full.  Tony smiles brightly, accepting a strawberry when Steve offers him one in return.  Steve sorely underestimated how affecting it would be to have Tony licking cream off his fingers.

“Do you like dessert?”  Tony asks, voice soft. They’ve gotten through about half the contents of both bowls; Steve having eaten the majority of it.

“Can we have it for breakfast too?”  Steve goes for another piece of fruit to illustrate just how much he’s enjoying his idea.  Tony kisses him afterwards, slow and lingering.

“Mmm, see, this is why I call you sugar, you just taste so sweet.”  Tony says without even a hint of shame. Steve feels himself go bright pink.  He can feel his entire face and chest heat. “Ah, that is truly, truly fantastic, I love it when you go pink all the way down to your nipples darling.”

“You can’t even see my chest right now.”  Steve all but sputters, hot, embarrassed, and more than a little charmed despite himself.

“True, but I know how you get all flushed, and I do really, really love it big guy.  I think it’s pretty, I think _all_ of you is pretty.”  Tony rubs his stubbled cheek against Steve’s, slipping one hand beneath his flannel shirt to pet over his stomach.

“Pretty, you think I’m-”  Steve chokes out, unable to finish the sentence.   _No one_ calls him pretty, no one except Tony.

“So pretty, absolutely gorgeous darling.  There’s no one more perfect, no one for me at any rate.  Does it bother you? I can stop if you like, but I do think that about you baby.”  Tony looks a little pink in the face himself. He feels warm all over, almost dizzy with the praise, and Steve thinks about that, about Tony not calling him pretty, and sweet, and all the other things he says that make his face burn and his brain do loop-de-loops of excitement.

“No I, I like that, I like the way you say it.”  He finally manages to say. Tony just hums, gracing him with another kiss, gentle and sweet as honey.

“Good, because you are, so good, and pretty, and sweet, and just absolutely stunning.”  The words are so much, they slide through him, dropping into his belly like the first hot sip of hot chocolate on a cold day.  He feels good, he feels happy, he feels _loved._ It’s so good it makes his head spin.  Tony seems to sense his mood. He sits there, draped across his lap and whispering soft things, drawing him into short kisses while he pets through short cropped blond hair.  He feels almost giddy with it, reckless and unashamed to ask for what he wants; what Tony promised earlier in the night.

“You said we would dance in the living room.”  Steve says suddenly, before he can lose his nerve entirely.  Atop him, Tony stills in surprise, a slow wide smile pulling across his face.

“I did say that, would you like to?”  Tony’s hand doesn’t still in its petting, but he does sit up further, gaze roving over Steve’s face, expression curious.

“I would, something slow, I’m not much of a dancer, two left feet.”  Steve answers, following Tony after he rolls up to stand, and leads them over to the living room.  There’s quite a bit of empty space, but Tony situates them atop a plush rug that feels incredibly nice on his bare feet.

“We’ll sway then darling, it’s only us here, we can take this as slow and simple as you like.”  Tony says warmly, taking Steve’s hand in his. “There we go, now, just sway with me, put your arm around my waist.”  Tony does this sort of thing all the time. He instructs, and at first Steve thought maybe he was being patronized, but Tony never means it that way with him.  Everything he says comes without a shred of judgement. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever been with anyone who was so excited about the prospect of making him happy.    

Music begins filtering into the room, something slow and jazzy.  Tony gets an arm around his neck, and they dance. The first few motions are a little jerky, but Tony guides them into smoother steps, and soon they’re pressed together moving along to the music easily.  Tony hums along to the song, sighing as Steve leans his head on his shoulder and lets him lead.

“Baby I’m a fool who thinks it’s cool to fall in love,”  Tony murmurs under his breath along with the song, his hand stroking over the short blond hairs at the nape of his neck.  

“Yeah well me too sweetheart.”  Steve says before he realizes Tony was going along with the song.  For a moment he nearly freezes, but Tony doesn’t say anything. He just asks for another kiss, then another as they make a slow swaying circuit around the carpet.  On the third song Steve takes the lead, and while he’s not quite as confident as Tony is, he manages not to step on his slippered feet, and Tony’s soft half smile is worth it.  

They dance until it becomes obvious that Tony is getting tired.  He goes off to change into pajamas while Steve waits. It gives him time to wander around the penthouse.  There are few personal touches; a watch left undisturbed on a sleek mirrored table, a pair of slippers left forgotten in the living room, but otherwise the space has been meticulously cleaned.  Steve wonders if Tony cleaned it himself to maintain his secrecy. It seems like something he would do. His inspection ends with the discovery of a long window seat built into the east facing wall of glass.  It’s topped with dark velvety cushions, and enough padding to resemble a mattress more than a couch. Looking at it, he can imagine Tony sitting here, and upon sitting down he catches a whiff of the spicy cologne he knows so well.  

“Well, don’t you present a lovely picture.”  Tony says, drawing his gaze over to the staircase that leads up to the loft.  A black velvet robe is wrapped around his body, the belt just barely tied. The same burgundy slippers cover his feet, but his dress slacks have been switched out for a pair of velvet pajama pants.  Steve desperately wants to touch him.

To that end he smiles, sitting back on the seat and stretching his legs out.  He hopes he paints as inviting a picture as Tony does when he’s lounging around.  “C’mere, sit with me,” He says, holding out a hand in a beckoning gesture “I’m getting cold again.”

“Shame on me for letting you feel anything but warm and toasty again.” Tony says with a light laugh.  He saunters over, the corners of his eyes crinkling when Steve catches his wrist no sooner than he’s come into range.  He doesn’t say anything, merely sighing when Steve rubs his fingers over the smooth skin of his wrist. “What is it darling, what do you need?”  He murmurs, lifting his free hand to scratch his fingers over Steve’s scalp lightly. It’s all he can do not to purr, it feels so good; that light careful touch.  

“Just wanted you over here.”  He admits, turning to rub his face against Tony’s stomach, wrapping his arms around the lean compact body he dreams about probably way too often.

“I wanted to be over here too beloved, now be a dear and sit back, and I’ll keep you warm.”  It doesn’t sound like an order, but Steve moves to comply immediately just the same. “There we go, thank you.”  Tony says, climbing onto the seat with him. He crouches between Steve’s knees, fussing with his robe so it doesn’t get tangled in their legs.

“Taking too long, here, let me.”  Steve grouches, reaching out to unbelt the robe and pull Tony in by his waist.  He tucks Tony up against him, running a hand down his clothed back, his other beneath the robe, resting on the warm skin of his upper hip where the waistband of his pants begins.  

“You’re so impatient, so efficient, an excellent plan if I do say so myself.”  Tony says, tapping his fingers against Steve’s shoulder absently. He settles atop him within moments, and Steve watches him in silence, taking in the dark sweep of his lashes, and the almost too deep hollows of his cheeks.  He wonders how often Tony actually takes time for himself, how often he just lets himself breath. Maybe that’s a little hypocritical given his own nature, but it’s still something he wishes they could both do more.

“Are you happy?”  Steve asks, before he can think too hard on why he shouldn’t ask.  “With me, are you, are you happy?” 

Atop him Tony shifts, leaning up to meet his eyes.  “Yes darling, you make me very happy, happier than I’ve ever been.”  The look on his face is too warm, too much, but Steve can’t look away.

“You make me happy too, I-I’m glad you suggested this, glad you thought of it.  I didn’t think we could just be like this, I thought you wouldn’t want-I thought-”  Steve huffs with the frustration of trying to put a name to his feelings. After burying them for so long, it’s always difficult to bare parts of himself, even to Tony, maybe especially to Tony, because he wants so much to be at his best around him.  “I thought just being together like this wouldn’t be enough for you.” He finally says, all in a rush.

Tony stares at him for a long moment of silence before responding.“This is all I want, you are everything I want.  Steve, honey, do I look like there is anywhere else I would rather be than with you?” Tony doesn’t wait for a response, choosing instead to lean in and capture Steve’s lips in a kiss.  It eases the tension from them both almost immediately. Tony is such a good kisser, Steve could write essays about how well he kisses, the way he makes him feel hot and molten at his core with just a brush of his lips, as if he could never feel cold again.  “Oh darling, I’ve been dreaming of spending time with you like this.” He speaks against Steve’s lips, into the minuscule amount of space between them. Steve slips both hands beneath the robe, and pulls him in for another kiss.

They stay like that, wrapped up in eachother, kissing as if they have all the time in the world.  Steve expects more to come of it, for Tony to lead him off to the bedroom, but that doesn’t happen.  Instead Tony stays where he is, draped over him, face turned toward the window while Steve strokes through the soft tangle of his hair.  He’s dozing now, soft breaths puffing out, his body utterly relaxed against Steve’s. Outside it’s still sleeting, the cold icy rain splashing down.  The city is alive down at street level, and blinking neon signs light up the night and the room they’re in. Steve knows if he were to go walking through the streets right now that it would be loud, but it’s quiet here, as if they’ve created their own little bubble of peace.  He knows in a few days they will have to return, that he will have to hide his soft edges, and Tony will slip back behind the mask everyone thinks they know so well; but until then they have this.

“I love you.”  He says quietly into the room, to the sleeping man in his arms.  Maybe he’ll be brave enough to say it when Tony is awake sometime soon.  For now this is bravery enough, even though he thinks Tony must know.

“What is it big guy, did I fall asleep on you?”  Tony slurs, his voice thick with drowsiness. Steve holds him a little tighter, kissing the top of his head.

Soon, he’ll tell him soon.


End file.
